


Moments

by TheAssassinsGhost



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Romance, Spoilers, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAssassinsGhost/pseuds/TheAssassinsGhost
Summary: Multi-chapter fic.'I can't believe the days turned into years. I hate to see the moments disappear...'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically what happens when several short fics get in a traffic jam in your head.
> 
> After a decade, James does some reflecting.

If another leaf fell on his page, James was going to kill someone.

He took a patient breath, brushed off the offending item with more force than was probably necessary, and tried to refocus on his book. After a few minutes of undisturbed reading he allowed himself to relax.

_Thump_.

A large, red maple leaf landed snugly in the crease of the book.

With a snarl of disgust he slapped his book shut on the intruding piece of foliage and gave up.

“It must be your hair.” James looked up at his lover, who was still reading his book perfectly at his leisure, calmly brushing away any leaves which happened to land on his pages. “Excuse me?”

“The reason why you lose patience so easily. It’s said that people with red hair have more fiery tempers.” James, who was lying with his head on Thomas’ lap, glared upwards at his love. Thomas, who was distractedly stroking the head of copper hair in his lap, maintained an innocent expression as he continued to read. It was a late afternoon in October, the sun maybe an hour away from setting. Autumns here were warm, though unexpected rainfall was common. So far they’d been lucky, the coats spread out beneath them as they lay reading within the woodland beyond their home. It had been too nice an evening to waste indoors.

“I don’t have a fiery temper, I just don’t like being interrupted every five seconds by fucking leaves.” He grumbled.

“Likewise, I don’t like being interrupted every five seconds by a man declaring war on leaves.” Thomas smirked as he tapped James on the nose playfully. “Now let me finish this.”

James entertained himself by pretending to bite his love’s fingers before letting him read in peace. Meanwhile he watched the sky through the gently swaying leaves of the trees above them, head rested in Thomas’ lap, arms folded across his chest contentedly. Once he tired of this he searched for a new distraction; reading had been soured for him and would not do. His gaze naturally flickered towards Thomas.

For as long as he’d known him, Thomas had always read the same way in relaxed company. He bit down on one side of his bottom lip when something exciting was happening, lifted his left eyebrow when there was a particularly interesting turn of events or titbit of information, eyes narrowing ever so slightly when he came across something he didn’t agree with or fully understand. When he wished to discuss something from a book, James took his cue from his rubbing his chin as he formed his thoughts. The only difference now was that the once clean shaven chin now sported a fair beard. Well, more so grey than fair now. The late evening sun lit up the blond still present in Thomas’ hair, the gentle breeze lightly flicking through the short strands. James found the sight most appealing. In all honesty Thomas was something James could watch for hours without ever getting bored. By now he knew all of his habitual movements, his quirks, his bad habits. Yet he never tired of reading them, like a favoured, dog-eared book. Nor did he ever tire of reflecting on their life together so far. That was more interesting and genre-full than any chronicle he had yet read.

**********

What Thomas endured in Bethlam, he doesn’t like remembering and James doesn’t like to dwell on too often lest he drive himself mad. It was during their first night together after their reunion. James had successfully mapped out the blind spots in the plantation guards’ patrol and made his way to Thomas’ room, anticipation mixed with underlying nervousness behind the calm and collected front. Thomas had silently let him in the door, and there was still no noise bar their breathing as they seemed to naturally come together, never more certain of wanting anything and yet going as steady as a young couple on their wedding night. There was so much to be relearned, and so much yet to be discovered. This wasn’t anything they wanted to rush through. By the time they’re finished James had concluded a few things, the first being that his vision was probably never going return fully, the second being that Thomas was the most exquisite thing he’d ever held in his hands and holy fuck, he’d missed this.

Thomas had his eyes shut, chest still rising and falling deeply, sweat glistening all along his torso. Thomas had always been toned, but years of hard labour had hardened him further. His hands were not smooth like they once were, but their roughness made James shiver as they moved over his body. The beard would take some getting used to, but James thought it suited him.

The dim light of the lamp illuminated marks of ruined skin along the inside of Thomas’ wrists, a change which James didn’t like at all. He’d been so distracted by everything else new about Thomas he’d completely overlooked them, but now he could clearly see the ugly, raised white lines along his inner wrists and they made something in his stomach drop.

He hadn’t noticed Thomas opening his eyes and following his gaze. “I know what you’re thinking. They’re not self-inflicted.”

“How?” was all James could say.

“Patients in Bethlem had to be chained to the wall in their cells. For their own safety. The manacles chaffed a bit.” Thomas replied in a devil may care manner, though James could detect the haunting in his voice. Instinctively James reached out to touch them, catching himself at the last second and retracting hastily. Thomas offered him his wrist. “It’s alright, James. They don’t hurt.”

James traced the lines delicately as though Thomas might break. “I’ve another souvenir on my head.” Thomas brushed some of his hair back to display an uglier, less neatly healed line of white, raised in the middle. James immediately sat up properly to study the horrible scar, shocked fury rising through him. “How the fuck did this happen?” “During public holidays the asylum was open to visitors for entertainment. Being a shamed ex-lord, you can only imagine the audience I received. One of my old rivals was disappointed that I hadn’t completely lost my mind like some of the other unfortunate souls in there, so for a reaction he threw a chamber pot at me. One small mercy was that it knocked me out so that I didn’t have to endure the smell.”

James looked horrified despite Thomas’ attempt at lightening the situation. He was beside himself with renewed blinding rage, at Alfred Hamilton, at Bethlem Royal hospital, at the jeering bastard who dared to hurt Thomas. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to burn the place and all who were associated with it to fucking ashes.

Thomas immediately began to soothe his trembling lover, taking his face into his hands. “James, please don’t be upset. It was a long time ago, I’ve picked up more nicks here and there since and I can clearly see you have as well.” James refused to smile. He’d noticed the small scars and fresh cuts scattered about Thomas’ body as they made love, and Thomas had marveled and mouthed over several of his, but they were all ‘work-based’ scars. None of those scars spoke of a time when their owner was chained to a wall and humiliated for public entertainment. None of those reminded them of a place so terrible their owner had attempted to hang himself to escape it.

Thomas ran a hand over the stubble of James’ head. “It’s in the past, James.” He muttered comfortingly. “They’re just physical reminders that I was one of the lucky ones who survived that place. I’m here. I’m fine. I’m still me. I’m sorry if I upset you, my love.” James felt some of his rage slip away, though the bittersweet melancholy remained. With Thomas’ hands still holding his face he could see the damned scars on his wrists.

He gently took hold of Thomas’ forearm, and turned his face to place a kiss on the hateful white lines. He did the same to the other, and then pushed himself up further on his knees, taking Thomas’ head in his hands and gently kissing the imperfection on his scalp, wishing there was some way he could make all the scars, both physical and mental, disappear. Thomas closed his eyes contentedly as he did so, James placing another kiss on his forehead, the bridge of his nose, finally his lips. They had barely parted a moment when James murmured “I love you.”

For the first time in ten years, Thomas heard those words. Looking back, James guiltily acknowledged that he probably hadn’t told Thomas this as much as he should have all those years ago. No more. He’d tell him every fucking day from now on.

**

Thomas was still an open book when it came to his emotions, though discussion of negative ones could prove a challenge in those early days of shared incarceration. He’d spent a decade with no one bothered about how he was feeling and had developed a ‘suck it up and get on with it’ attitude. He had adapted and he didn’t see any error in this. Not like James could see it. James always had a gift for noticing small details. He noticed how Thomas, for all his insistence that he had left the horror of the asylum in the past, didn’t like his wrists being restricted by anything, even his shirt sleeves. On first glance one would think nothing of his rolling his sleeves up while working in the overbearing heat, but James noticed the subtle discomfort in Thomas as he pulled on his shirt each morning, immediately rolling his sleeves off his wrists so that his forearms were bare. He once made a point of subtly holding Thomas by the wrist, and grievously took note of the quickening pulse and tension in his love.

Though no longer a troubled sleeper he could sense eyes watching him, a survival technique also picked up in Bethlam. It proved most tedious in the early day the plantation for James, who would normally wake early from nightmares, and couldn’t help staring at Thomas while he slept, still in such disbelief that he was there, alive and breathing. Then complaining when James’ gaze forced him to wake. In the early months of James’ arrival, Thomas mourned for Miranda. This was to be expected, of course. Together they mourned her loss, James finding it easier to gracefully grieve now that he had found some peace of mind and a reason to move forward. But Thomas had to mourn in his own way. After all, she had been his wife, and he had relied on mere hope alone for years that she was safe with James. The cruel blow that she had died within eighteen months of his being reunited with James, at the hand of the man who’d ruined their lives, made it all the worse. Thomas could differ between wanting to talk about her and closing off completely when she was mentioned. James didn’t begrudge him this. He knew in amongst all other emotions Thomas felt some degree of guilt: though their marriage had never been the most orthodox, it had been built on love and he felt he had failed in his duty as a husband to protect her.

James never could have expected how far the guilt extended, however. Thomas had been in a depressive mood for the better part of a week, and James initially worried that he was sick. His behaviour was extremely off; speaking little, eating even less, varying alarmingly between being distant towards James and then clinging to him like he would disappear into smoke any second. James wasn’t sure what concerned him more. He waited until they were behind the closed door of Thomas’ room before addressing the issue directly. At the time Thomas had been peeling an apple disinterestedly, pausing abruptly as James began speaking. It was only when an alarmed James noticed the pooling of blood in the hand gripping the knife that Thomas finally broke. James carefully bandaged Thomas’ cut hand while his love finally confessed.

The reason for Thomas’ emotional shut-down was simple, if not still shocking: guilt. Guilt that everything that James and his wife had endured; exile, piracy, death, destruction and incarceration, had all been as a result of his actions. Had he not been so reckless as to put James’ career, reputation and essentially his life at risk for the sake of his own desires, none of that would have happened. Peter could not have betrayed them, his father would not have had any leverage over them, Nassau would have been saved sooner and life would have went on. James was shaken, to say the very least.

“Thomas, don’t be so foolish...”

“My foolishness is the reason for all this, James, can’t you see that?”

“Was falling in love with me foolish, Thomas?” James asked softly, sitting beside Thomas on the bed. “Do you regret that? Because I don’t, Thomas.” James gently took hold of Thomas’ bandaged hand. “ I don’t regret it. Never have, never will.”

“Even though I ruined your life?” Thomas addressed the floorboards.

James took hold of his love’s face in his hands to make him look at him. He hated the sad, lost expression on Thomas’ face. “Listen to me now. You always did prefer cruel truth to the kindness of lying. Would I still have my position in the Navy had I not met you? Possibly. Would I have ever entered piracy if not for you? No, I wouldn’t. Would I have suffered the past ten years in exile and ended up here if not for you. No. But-”

He nuzzled the side of Thomas’ face, hand moving down to comfortingly caress his neck. “-I would rather go through all of that a thousand times over than have never met you and experienced what we had. What we still have. The Navy, England, reputation....I couldn’t give two fucks about any of that. I suffered for ten years without you, then Miranda’s death further destroyed me. Now that I have you back I can feel myself starting to come back together again. I can look forward to the day again, start to like my life again because you’re here. You could never ruin my life, Thomas. You _are_ my life.”

**

The old hunting lodge they came across after walking what felt like miles through dense woodland, admittedly, looked more fit for a bonfire than a home. They’d approached it with caution, though both severely doubted if anyone had entered it in years. It looked average size on the outside with two floors, the roof in need of serious repair. The wood surrounding the exterior of the lodge had faded and in parts greatly decayed as a result of time and forces of nature, the porch had missing floorboards and those intact did not look supportive, the door leading inside relying on one hinge. The windows by some miracle were still in one piece, if still wearing a century’s worth of grime. A well which was in bad need of work stood nearby. Satisfied that no one could possibly still live there and tired from walking for miles, they entered carefully over the untrustworthy boards.

Inside was spacious and not as run-down as the exterior, though everything looked to be covered in thick layers of dust, dirt, and mould due to exposure to the elements. Animals had clearly made their mark too. Upstairs surprisingly fared much better, the doors to rooms having been shut for so long they had to be forced open, the furniture inside suffering mostly dust. Only one room miraculously had suffered extreme damage from the damp coming through the broken roof.Downstairs consisted of two main rooms, a large kitchen with a sitting area and what looked to be an old map room or office. Upstairs consisted of three bedrooms, the one beyond repair with the damp, a guard-robe with an old tin tub, and a room dedicated to animal trophies, tools and hunting weaponry, long past their useful days. Other than dirt and water damage in places, the inside seemed for the most part unaffected and surprisingly still well furnished.

“You don’t reckon it’s only used seasonally?” It was a stupid question, but he had to be sure.

Thomas shook his head. “It’s coming to the end of summer here, if it was in seasonal use it wouldn’t accumulate this much dust already. I don’t imagine it’s been used in years.”

It wasn’t a lord of the land’s lodge by any means, but it was spacious, it was sheltered, and it was furnished. It beat sleeping on the ground by a mile and would do for the night. Thomas sat down on a kitchen chair, feet propped on the table, ignoring the dust as his eyes began surveying the room.

After some moments of silence James spoke “What are you thinking of?”

“I’m visualising.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m just imagining a fire in the hearth over there, something like soup boiling over it.” He nodded at the kitchen window through which dense undergrowth could be seen before the trees which shielded the lodge from view. “A vegetable garden out there, maybe some chickens.”

James’ eyes widened in incredulity. “Are you seriously suggesting we stay here?”

Thomas shrugged with a smile. “Why not? It needs serious repair, there’s no denying that, but it has four walls and a roof, albeit a leaky one, it’s furnished, and it’s well shielded from and forgotten by civilisation. The ground is fertile. If I remember right, we passed through a local town some miles back so other provisions wouldn’t be a problem. I can’t imagine us finding anywhere better.”

James was unsure. The idea of setting down roots near the sea for Thomas’ sake was appealing, and the sea lay less than two miles from there, but looking around the decrepit former dwelling he wasn’t sure it was right. He’d always expected that he’d get some sort of feeling when they finally found a suitable home. Something similar to the feeling he’d had when he arrived back at the Hamilton’s residence after three months absence all those years ago. But here....he didn’t feel any different than normal. But Thomas had a point. It was unlikely that a better dwelling or location should befall them, and they had been on the run for weeks. The plantation was miles away. They were tired of running. They were ready to live.

James observed the manky kitchen once more, face solemn. “It’d take a lot of work. And a bit of money.”

Thomas nodded. “A few months, I’d wager, if done right.”

“The interior appears to look worse than it is. A good clean and a few easy repairs would do it. Replacing the door wouldn’t be difficult either. The exterior, however, will be a right bitch to fix up. Hacking through that overgrown mess outside would take a while. We’ll have quite a job on our hands.”

“Nothing more or less heavy duty than we’d had at the plantation.” Thomas pointed out. “And it’s not as if we don’t have time on our hands.”

“True. Though I fear even the greatest of renovations won’t bring this place up to par with your old home in London.” He joked.

Thomas snorted. “As if I give a fuck about that. I loved my life in London because I had Miranda, and then you. That old over-decorated house of my father’s only became a home when those I loved were in it.” He reached across the table to take hold of his lover’s hand. “It’s better than a cell, James. It’s better than a barracks room. We’re safe here. We’re free here. We can build a home here, a life here. Is that not what we’ve always wanted?”

James remained blank for a beat, before unexpectedly swooping in to kiss Thomas soundly.

When he pulled away Thomas smiled. “What was that for?”

“Because I wanted to, and I can.” James replied simply, before laughing almost giddily at the joy so simple a statement gave him. “Because I fucking can!”

 

The work did indeed take weeks to finish, though surprisingly funding came easily enough from the pocket of Jack Rackham. James had felt uncomfortable venturing into the local town a few miles away, paranoid that civilisation would recognise captain Flint on instinct alone. Of course no one paid any attention to him as they went about their business, and the man in charge of the postal service barely batted an eyelid at him. It was only a matter of days before a small parcel arrived from Nassau for a Mr Barlow, though James collected it a week late due to disbelief that it would arrive so soon or that Jack would be so easily persuaded. As it turned out, Jack could be persuaded to be very generous indeed. Fear was a useful tool; as long as captain Flint stayed ‘retired’ Jack would be more than happy to ensure his retirement was comfortable. James had always been fond of a good deal.

The work was hard and tiresome but worth it in the end. Without the filth the inside was rather cosy, the exterior unrecognisable to what it once was, garden seeded and ready to bring forth life. There had been many cuts, bruises and splinters, sunburns, weary planning and bickering but in the end it was theirs. Even if James still didn’t feel any major difference in emotion towards it and this vexed him.

Then one night he came up from the beach carrying fish. He still had no desire to be near the sea, but he was a better fisherman than Thomas and dinner needed to be served. Thomas would have enjoyed learning the skill, but had stayed behind to do some further work on the fence of their lodge. Thomas outshone his carpenter’s son lover at manual work, and James could safely maintain that the renovation would not have been nearly as effective without him.

The house looked nice in the dark, the windows illuminated by oil lamps, making the whole place look inviting. Inside he found Thomas cutting up some vegetables they’d gotten in town a few days ago. James couldn’t wait until their own started to grow to save them the sorry journey each time. He could see Thomas concentrate intensely, determined to make his cuts perfect. Always the perfectionist, it infuriated Thomas that he wasn’t as particularly skilled in the culinary area as James was.

Then just like that, it all clicked.

Discarding his boots at the door and fish in a bucket, James wordlessly crossed the room to wrap his arms around Thomas’ waist and bury his face in between his shoulder blades, breathing him in contently. He smelled of outdoors, and Thomas, and _home_.

James knew now why he hadn’t felt any different when they first came here. It was now a fine place to live, they were proud of their work, but he could not re-experience the sensation of coming home. Because he had already felt it everyday for a year. It wasn’t a place. It was right there in his arms.

They were both finally home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life can't always be a bed of roses.

Captain James Flint was known for his temper. He wasn’t the type to fly off the handle at every little thing, no, he was the more terrifying type who liked to contain it for a while before exploding like a pressurised container. God help whoever his anger was directed at when it did.

 

  
As captain of a crew whose members could be disloyal, small-thinking, unruly and borderline stupid at times, James felt he had had every fucking right to be bad-tempered. Striving to achieve self-governance of a pirate republic was difficult enough without the trouble of dealing with the whining and mutinies of said ungrateful fucks of pirates. As irritating as all that was, at least he knew how to deal with it.

Jealousy, was something else entirely.

They had been visiting a nearby town during the spring of their third year of freedom. As happy as their home was, both loved seeing and experiencing new places. It was one of the things that attracted James to the Navy all those years ago, and years of captivity had given Thomas the urge to see as many new places as possible. Their new horses were truly a blessing.

Thomas, much to James’ fond exasperation, still retained an interest in politics. His study at home was full of books on the subject and he kept up to date with local and continental goings-on. On occasion he even wrote articles and proposals, sending them in under a nom plume. Should a public discussion be taking place in the places they visited he was normally first in the door, dragging a reluctant James with him. 

If James’ decade at sea had taught him anything, it was to not place much if any stock in politics. But it gladdened him to see Thomas so eager and enthused, and, well, there wasn’t much else from his old life in London that James could offer him. Even if Thomas did protest that other than Miranda he didn’t miss his old life one bit.

But it was clear to see that here was where Thomas’ element lay, and always would. James watched him more than the present political speaker, watched as he listened intently, mentally taking notes and forming his opinions before presenting them forward when the public audience was given the floor. He’d lost none of his flair, often causing murmurs of agreement in the galleries with his opinions. Some of his proposals had even aided in amending local laws. Despite all his eye-rolling and sighs when Thomas nattered on to him about economics and such, James was undeniably proud of him.

After one particular debate, during which Thomas had argued quite a number of valid points, he had been stopped by a few men on their way out. Most just simply shook his hand or patted his shoulder and extended their approval of his points, while a couple impeached him for further discussion of them. James, sensing this could take a while, motioned that he would wait outside. 

Finally Thomas emerged, James waiting with their horses across the road. Spotting them Thomas made to cross over, only to be halted as another man cut in front of him.  
The man was smiling as he began talking to a surprised Thomas. James once again rolled his eyes; he recognised the man to be one of the governors present at the debate. He must be new to the field, judging by his youthful looks and his apparent enthusiasm at what Thomas had to say. First rule of politics, Thomas always said, be enthused about your own work but approve others mildly, lest it come back to bite you. 

And yet this young and admittedly handsome politician was not one bit shy about his enthusiasm. As the moments wore on, James began to feel that he was a bit too enthusiastic. The more time that passed, the more James began to feel other emotions that he hadn’t really felt before, none of which he liked one bit.

The man was chatting animatedly to Thomas in a way that was mortifyingly flattering. That wasn’t anything new- James was used to admirers of Thomas’ political opinions simpering to him after debates, one thing about the americas was that they were far more open to the discussion of radical politics than England. But James saw this man standing too close to Thomas, smiling a bit too brightly, and a hand was suddenly resting on Thomas’ shoulder. A pat was acceptable, a quick squeeze of the shoulder was perfectly fine, but resting as though it had a right to be there.... 

Thomas didn’t seem to find anything amiss. He was smiling politely, answering questions conversationally, hands resting at his sides. James forced himself to relax; if Thomas wasn’t worried by how forward this stranger was, there was no reason for him to-  
The hand had moved so that the fingers were ever so slightly touching the curve of Thomas’ neck, and suddenly James’ vision seemed to take on a red hue.

Thomas’ neck was intimate territory, a place where no one else had any right to touch. Certainly not some clean shaven pup of a politician who had better remove his hand or have it broken. 

He didn’t want him touching Thomas, he didn’t want him speaking to Thomas, he didn’t want him to fucking look in Thomas’ direction if he knew what was good for him.

Securing their horses, James made his way over. As he neared the young politician faltered in his chattering, eyeing him curiously.

“Can I help you sir?”

He could help a lot by getting the fuck out of James’ sight, but luckily it was Thomas who replied. “My lord, he is with me. Allow me to introduce James Smith, a cousin of mine.” 

“Ah. A pleasure to meet you, sir.” His warm words didn’t match his tone. He turned back to Thomas. “Forgive me sir, but I’m not sure I caught your name...”

“I did not give it.” Thomas smiled courteously. “My name is Thomas Barlow.”

“Ah of course, a good strong English name I’m sure.”

James briefly wondered if he could point out England on a map should he be presented with one.

“You must have been highly educated in politics back in England, I dare say, Mr Barlow?”

“Unfortunately no, I was the son of a merchant who thought schooling a waste beyond letters and numbers. Politics is simply a hobby of mine.” Lied the former Etonian. 

“Oxford’s loss, I declare.” He was back to putting his hand on Thomas’ shoulder. “I am beyond intrigued by your views of how the world works, Thomas, if I might be so bold to call you by the familiar?”

Boldness was about a hair’s fraction away from getting this piece of shit strangled with his own innards.

“Would you care to discuss them further in private over luncheon? I would so like to learn further, I’m sure Mr Smith wouldn’t mind-”

Before Mr ‘Smith’ could explode with rage, Thomas was already shaking his head apologetically “Your offer is most kind and I am flattered, but I must respectfully decline. I will be returning home soon, my wife will be expecting me.”

The man nodded. “Completely understandable, capital in fact. Well, once again let me praise you for such an enlightening debate and wish you good luck.”

He extended his hand. “Pleasure meeting you, Thomas.” He nodded at the glaring man beside him. “Mr Smith. I hope we shall have the fortuity to meet again in the future.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on it.” James smiled humourlessly before tugging at Thomas’ arm. “Come on.”

Climbing into Dante’s saddle Thomas frowned. “James, what’s the ma-”

“Now’s not the time.” James snapped “Let’s go.”

 

 

The ride home was uncomfortably quiet, Thomas looking thoroughly baffled, James trying to stop Miguel’s reigns from cutting into his palms with the force of his grip. 

When the horses were fed and stripped of their harnesses and they were safe behind the closed doors of their home, Thomas couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve done to upset you?” 

James, who was pouring himself a mug of rum, replied coldly. “You’re an intelligent man, Thomas, you can guess what has upset me.”

Thomas leaned back against the workbench, arms folded, brow furrowed. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to help me out with this one.”

James took a gulp of the rum. “I’ve already given you a clue.” He put on a mocking tone. “Oh, Thomas you’re so intelligent. Thomas, you’re so enlightening. Thomas, please let me lick your fucking boots!”

Thomas blinked. “You’re angry at me over a man talking to me about political matters?” 

“No, I’m angry that that piece of shit was flirting with you, putting his hands all over you, and you didn’t do a thing to stop it.”

Thomas was beyond amazement at both the accusation and bile in James’ tone. “James, I don’t know where in God’s name that idea has come from but you’re being completely unreasonable. Lord Conroy wished to talk to me about the debate we had just attended, I listened to him and answered courteously. Nothing more. Even if he was that way inclined, why would the man flirt with me in a public street? In case it’s slipped your mind, that sort of thing is also illegal here.”

Hearing both the man’s name and the dry, angry sarcasm in Thomas’ voice riled James further. “I see men talk to you after debates, I watch them fawn, I watch them admire, I never have any issues with that. But when I see one stroking your neck, when I see one calling you by your first name and inviting you to dine with him, don’t try to tell me, illegal or not, that my thoughts are unreasonable.” He snarled.

Thomas sighed impatiently. “You should know by now that this land insists more on the familiar than England did. Yes, the man was a bit forward even for my liking but even if that was his deliberate intentions, I still don’t see why you are directing your anger at me. What did you think was going to happen had you not cut in, Conroy would ask me if I wanted to have a go behind the town hall? Even worse, that I would say 'wonderful, just let me inform my companion and I’ll be right with you'?”

Thomas’ attempt to diffuse the situation gave way to a horrible, suffocating atmosphere as the silent look on James’ face said all he needed to know.

“Oh my God.” He breathed, face falling, eyes and mouth wide with genuine shock. “That _is_  what you thought would happen, isn’t it?”

There was a horrible beat of silence before Thomas stepped away from the workbench, trembling in horrid disbelief, eyes cast down as he made to leave the room.

His eerie calmness scared James out of his fury, realising what he’d just implied.

“Thomas-”

“Fuck you, James.” Thomas voice was calm, far beyond mere rage.

“Thomas, please...”

“Fuck you!” Thomas’ voice cracked in the middle, his eyes still down, refusing to let James see his face. “I can’t.... I just can’t be near you right now... please just leave me be....”

With that Thomas stormed out of the room and into his study, slamming the door behind him and leaving James to reflect in horror on what he had just done.

 

 

James had been at the mercy of various men, his life endangered more times than he could remember at this stage, and yet he had never felt more afraid as he was while knocking softly on the study door hours after the most explosive and potentially destructive argument he and Thomas had ever engaged in. 

He got no permission to enter, but then he didn’t get any demand to stay away either. He drew a deep breath as he pushed the door open.

Thomas was sat at his desk, book opened in front of him though not a word of it read. There was a bottle of port beside the book, an empty glass with it. Thomas himself had his chin propped up on an elbow on the desk, eyes fixed determinedly on the pages and not looking up once as James entered.

James closed the door behind him and stood awkwardly, hand gripping the other with force behind his back. He wanted to speak, but didn’t know where to begin. 

Finally it was Thomas who broke the silence, gaze still focused on the pages. “Ask me how many.”

James frowned “How many what?”

“How many lovers I’ve had since you.”

“Thomas...”

“Go on, ask!”

James was startled by the roughness of Thomas’ voice. “Alright. How many?”

“None.” Thomas raised his eyes to look at James for the first time.

His face was stony and blank, his eyes red rimmed. “Besides Miranda, none. Not that I didn’t have any offers in our ten years apart, all of which I rejected. I have never been with anyone else, I have never looked at anyone else, I have never wanted anyone else!”

“I know.”

“Then please tell me James because I’m struggling to understand; how the fuck could you ever think there could possibly be someone else?”

“Because _I_ was someone else.” 

Thomas looked as though James had physically hit him. “How...” 

“Please just let me speak Thomas. I know I have no right to your ear after the way I behaved earlier, but please, just let me explain.”

Thomas looked confused and hurt, and James hated himself for being the cause of that.

He took a breath. “I know what we had was something completely different; me, you and Miranda. Believe me, I do.” Thomas knew all of this as well as he did, he didn’t need to remind him further.

James sat on the edge of the desk, back to Thomas, eyes focused on his hands in his lap. “There are times, especially now, where I question what you ever saw in me. I was an ordinary naval officer from a poor family, no reputation or superior intelligence beyond literacy to speak of. Argumentative, stubborn and quick-tempered. Well, we saw where that got us.”

He could feel Thomas’ eyes boring a hole in his back, wondering what relevance all of this had.

“For whatever fortunate reason, you loved me nonetheless. And I loved you. Jesus Christ, I loved you so much. How could I not; you’re brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful. We were polar opposites, you and I.”

He kept his eyes fixed on his clasped fingers. “I see other men like you admiring you after these debates. Men who wish for change, men of intelligence, men with the means to make it so. I know chances are a lot of their admiration is strictly professional, so none of that bothers me. But an instance like today, where one of those men’s intentions appear less than professional towards you, it, well, it kind of brings it to life for me that you are capable of finding so much better.” 

He heard a sharp exhale of breath behind him and fought to stop his hands shaking. “This doesn’t excuse the way I behaved or what I said to you earlier. You didn’t ask for his actions and you have every right to talk to whoever you like. There’s no one else in the world I trust more. I was a jealous, hot headed idiot over my own insecurities and I hurt you for no reason. I’m so, so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

He heard Thomas rise from his seat slowly and make his way around the desk. He sat beside James on the edge of the desk silently. James didn’t feel he had the right to look at him. He looked up only when he felt his arm being gently prodded by something with sharp edges.

He recognised the worn, terracotta cover as he took hold of the familiar book. He smiled sadly. “Were you reading this?”

“Just in parts, trying to remind myself why I shouldn’t storm back out there and beat the ridiculousness out of you with it.” Thomas’ voice still sounded somewhat cracked, though genuine humour was at least present.

James sighed. “Maybe you should have. I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are. I forgive you, if not completely understand where this silly self-depreciation comes from.” Thomas nodded at the book. “Do you remember the day I gave you this?”

“Of course. It was the day before I was due to go to Nassau for the first time.”

“Yes, when we were to be parted for three months. You were agitated about going, as was I about you going. So I gave you that book. Do you remember my reason for why?”

“You said it was for me to take comfort in whenever I felt alone, discouraged or unimportant.” James answered, warming at the memory. “To remind myself that there was someone who believed in me and loved me wherever I was in the world.”

“Yet you did not take it with you. What reason did you give me for that?”

“Because I thought it too valuable a gift. And I did not need words to remind myself how you felt.”

“And yet you need them now?” Thomas asked softly. "After so long?"

James shook his head. “Not as such. You make me feel loved, you make me happy, every single day we’ve spent together is a day I wouldn’t trade for anything. But I can’t say I don’t wish I had more of myself to offer you than a disgraced ex-naval officer turned cold-blooded pirate captain.”

“James, stop that. I won’t have you talk such nonsense about yourself.” Thomas put a hand on his cheek and gently forced his love to look at him.

“Why on earth would I look at anyone else when I have you? My love is not political and yet he is a master of the sea and a natural born leader of men. I have a man who is fearless, loyal and intelligent. A man who is kind-hearted and determined. A man who risked and lost his career for me, who took care of my wife, who went to war with the most powerful empire in the world in my name to make my plans for a single island a reality. A man who cares for me, a disgraced ex-politician turned slave, and who I love more than all the world. Even when he’s being an irrational, jealous idiot. Tell me, who else can ever hope to measure up to that?”

  
James smiled almost shyly, cradling Thomas’ face in his own hands, stroking his facial hair fondly. “I don’t deserve such praise, but thank you. I know I keep saying this, but I am sorry. I really shouldn’t be surprised at this stage to realise that if Miranda or I could find you intoxicatingly brilliant, so can others. Even if my first impression of you admittedly was that you were a handsome but over-dressed snob.”

“It would be worse if theirs all resembled my first impression of you. Namely having to restrain the urge to bend you over the nearest object and fuck you senseless.”

James laughed at that, relishing in the vanishing of all tension and upset. “You gave in to that urge pretty quickly if I remember right, Lord Hamilton.” He murmured, grazing Thomas’ lips with his own.

“Indeed I did. Again and again.” Thomas closed the distance between them, holding James’ face in both hands as they kissed. James deepened it quickly, kisses becoming almost bruising in their intensity.

Thomas broke away, mouth now nipping its way none too gently along James neck. James closed his eyes and gripped the desk tight, enjoying the stinging bites. If this was how Thomas wanted to get out the rest of his dormant anger, well, James could think of far worse ways to do it. 

With surprising swiftness he suddenly found himself flat on his back on the desk, Thomas above him between his legs, looking deliciously dishevelled and wanting.

Eyes not leaving James’, Thomas grinded his hips forward against his lover’s still clothed crotch, resulting in a groan from James. He did it again with greater intensity and smirked as he reached down to undo his trousers...

A strange noise startled them both. James frowned up at a wide-eyed Thomas who had paused in his movements. “Was that the desk?”

“I hope not....” 

They heard it again, though it didn’t sound like the creaking of wood. A third time, and James unexpectedly burst into a fit of giggles as Thomas’ face blushed with something other than arousal.

“I’d completely forgotten you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast!” James laughed. Thomas looked sheepish, like a schoolboy caught with his pants down. James tried to calm down but almost immediately Thomas’ empty stomach rumbled again and he found himself laughing again, hand covering his face and body shuddering.

Thomas’ bemused expression soon disintegrated into laughter as well, giving up on passion and instead letting himself sink down, head rested on James’ chest, both giddy with giggles. It was silly really, two grown men nearly crying with the laughter over a heavy moment being interrupted by some guttural noises. Perfectly silly. Perfect in general.

James caught a grip of himself finally and looked down at his chest to see blue eyes he adored looking back at him, red again from happy tears, hair unkempt, a heart-breaking smile just for him.

  
He ran a hand through the blond strands. “Christ, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Thomas came up to kiss him, gently this time.

“I’m so thankful that you’re mine.”

“And I to be yours.” Thomas tugged a short strand of auburn out of James’ eyes. “So long as you remember that in future and not fly off the handle every time an irrelevant pretty face tries to talk to me.”

James kissed his forehead. “Agreed. Come on. Let’s get you fed.”

His love pouted as they sat up. “So much for acting on my urges.”

James ran a hand affectionately across Thomas’ backside as he stood up and fixed himself. “Plenty of time for that later. I don’t need you passing out from hunger pains in the middle of it.”

They had all the time in the world after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 coming up. Thank you so much for the kudos & comments on chapter one, they make my day and always make me smile:) Love & luck to you all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the littlest of things can cause the greatest chaos...

It was amazing, James thought, how the introduction of certain other life forms into ones life could shake up ones own existence.

He had experienced it only a handful of times in his own life; Miranda and Thomas, Silver, Flint himself. 

Then there was a black and white ball of fur and noise.

He had been peeling potatoes on their porch one winter afternoon while Thomas had ridden into town to get them some meat. Winter was much more preferable in this climate, James thought. There was a greater risk of rainfall of course, but the temperature was rarely chilly and the sun still didn’t fall until early evening. Which was good, he didn’t want Thomas travelling alone in the dark.

The sound of cantering hooves signalled the arrival home of his beloved and James looked up from his peeling. He watched as Thomas unbridled Dante and gave him a quick pat before the handsome stallion took off to his stable for the night.

Thomas was smiling and clutching the front of his shirt, which looked strangely bulky. James wiped his hands before approaching him curiously.

“Did you pick up something extra or have you put on weight since you left the house?”

In reply Thomas opened his shirt a bit wider, and much to James’ surprise a small, furry head of black and white poked out from it.

“Thomas...”

“He’s gorgeous isn’t he?” Thomas practically beamed.

James stared at the small creature in his love’s shirt. The creature, with wet eyes and a nose, stared back. “He’s a dog.”

“Spot on, James.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Why do you have a dog in your shirt?”

“I came by the poor thing on my way home from town, a gypsy woman was selling a litter. This one was the runt of it and couldn’t be given away let alone sold, so she was putting him in a sack to drown him. She was happy to take a shilling for him.”

Thomas petted the pup’s sleek head. “He sat good as gold against my chest for the last couple of miles.”

James folded his arms. “I see. And what do you propose to do with him?”

“Keep him, of course!” Thomas scoffed. “He’s too small and helpless to defend himself all alone in the wilderness.” He stroked the streak of white running down the forehead to the small nose tenderly with a finger. “I’ve even given him a name: Tobias. Toby for short.”

James continued to eye the mutt in Thomas’ arms solemnly. He had never had much of an interest in domestic animals, apart from their horses. He didn’t think they served much purpose other than being nice to look at and defecating everywhere. Horses were working animals, farm animals provided food, hunting dogs hunted. This little runt of a thing with all fur and no fangs was certainly no hunting dog.

Thomas noticed his look. “Come on, James, he’s only a little thing and we’ve plenty of room here. How could you say no to that face?” 

The owner of that face was currently entertaining itself by chewing happily on the fabric of Thomas’ shirt, teeth too small to do much damage and slobber soaking the cotton.

James cocked his head to the side with a sigh. “I suppose there really is no way I could say no and maintain a peaceful life, is there?

“I knew you’d come round to my way of thinking eventually, my love.” Thomas grinned as he leaned in for a quick, appreciative kiss.

“He won’t be any trouble.” He took the puppy out of his shirt to hold properly. It was small enough to fit in Thomas’ hands, a fluffy black and white coat with a sleek tail and head, one of the paws completely black while the rest were white. It was a sweet little thing, if one liked that sort of thing.

“Toby, this is James. You’re going to live here with us now!” 

James vaguely wondered if Thomas had fallen from his horse somewhere along the way back and literally knocked himself senseless. Still, if Thomas talking nonsense to a dog was to be the only difference in their home life from now on, James supposed one little mongrel wouldn’t be that much of an interference.

Skimming his eyes over the new addition to the family he noticed bits of gristle and grease around the snout and sighed heavily.

“Well, at least now we know why he was so quiet on the trip back.”

Thomas frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let me put it this way, our dinner will be strictly vegetarian tonight.”  
**

“Thomas, he’ll be fine. Come on!”

Tobias had fallen asleep, curled up contentedly on a cushion by the dying embers of the fire. Thomas was placing an old blanket around him cautiously, not wishing to wake him. James had been waiting a solid ten minutes for him to be satisfied with the pup’s warmth and comfort, and that he wouldn’t be afraid downstairs by himself. 

Thomas finally seemed satisfied. “He looks sweet while asleep, doesn’t he?”

“Like a cherub.” James grunted. “So do I, incidentally, if I ever get to sleep tonight that is.”

“I never demanded that you wait for me before heading to bed.”

“If I didn’t, I’d worry you’d sleep on the floor beside the bloody dog to make sure he was warm enough.” James snorted. That was true to some degree, if Thomas’ behaviour towards the little mongrel so far was anything to go on. That and the fact that James hadn’t slept apart from Thomas for nearly seven years and he didn’t think sleep would come easy without him there.

Thomas placed some paper on the floor for Tobias to do his business in the night, and left out a bowl of water. “I’ll make a flap in the door for him tomorrow.”

“If any raccoons or squirrels come in through that, you’re going to be the one to chase them out.”

“Fine.” Thomas rose off his hunkers. “Let’s get to bed. Try not to wake Tobias.”

“God forbid.” James rolled his eyes, but still slipped his hand habitually into Thomas’ as they climbed the stairs. 

In bed, James felt Thomas’ arm wind around his midriff. “Thank you for letting me keep Toby, my love. I know pets aren’t really to your liking.”

James ran a hand over the arm circling him affectionately. “You like pets and this is your home too, so I have no right to complain. Except if your mutt chases my chickens. Then there’ll be war.” 

“That sounds fair.” Thomas chuckled. He leaned over to kiss his love. “See you in the morning.”

James felt as though he had only just shut his eyes when they shot open again to the sound of scratching at their bedroom door. In his disorientated state James grabbed for the pistol he kept in the drawer of their night stand.

The noise stopped, causing him to pause and wonder if he’d imagined it. Then it came again, accompanied by a shrill little whine.

James cast his eyes skyward and nudged his partner. “Thomas.”

“Hmm?” Thomas grunted.

James lit the lamp on the bedside table. “Your child is awake.”

Thomas’ eyes fluttered open at the sound of further scratching and whines. He groaned before pushing himself up and rubbing his neck sleepily while he pulled on a pair of breeches. James watched him, not feeling one bit of guilt for waking him. If anything he felt rather smug.

Thomas opened their door to reveal Tobias, whose tail started wagging madly at the sight of Thomas.

“Toby.” Thomas yawned. “Have you no concept of what time it is?”

The pups only response was to wag his tail faster and paw playfully at Thomas’ toes.

“Come on. Back to bed.”

James dozed while Thomas returned Tobias to the kitchen. When Thomas returned, he had no sooner gotten back into bed before the scratches began once more. 

Thomas repeated the process.

And then a third time.

And a fourth.

By the fifth round of scratching both men were exhausted and irritated. “Back to bed, Tobias!” James eventually roared at the door, which seemed to have a miraculous effect for all of two minutes before the whining began.

James buried his head under his pillow in frustration. “Why couldn’t you have just come home with a turtle?”  
Thomas had an arm crossed over his tired eyes. “Do you think we should just, I don’t know, let him stay with us for tonight? It’s his first night in a new place after all...”

“Thomas, no.” James argued. “You need to be firm from the beginning. Let him stay here tonight and it’ll turn into two nights, then a week, then...”

The whining increased in pitch. “Fine.” James snarled into his pillow. “He stays in here just for one night. Anything for a bit of peace.”

Moments later a content puppy was lying at their feet on the bed, Thomas insisting the floor would be too cold. His own body now felt cold from walking backwards and forwards to the kitchen with the pup. James felt a touch of guilt at that and gently pulled him closer for warmth, entwining his icy feet with his own.

Finally, they went to sleep.   
**  
James woke to the sound of rain. One thing about the place they lived in was that when it rained, it came down in buckets, rapping against the roof of their home. It was something completely foreign to life in Nassau.

He liked mornings like this, with no place to go and nothing to do but stay in bed with his love. He lived for these lazy mornings. Once upon a time he would have given his entire share of Urca gold for just one of these mornings with the man now sharing his bed and his life.

The man in question was still asleep. Thomas had always been a mess in sleep. James remembered the surprise he’d felt the first time he’d woken up beside Thomas all those years ago in London solely for how undignified his governor lover was as a sleeper. His hair, even now when it was cropped, stood up in all directions, his face was mostly buried into the pillow, one arm shoved under the pillow and the other slung above his head. One leg was straight, the other at bent at a right angle beneath the straight one.

It had been a ridiculous source of comfort to James the first night they’d spent together at the plantation to know that he still slept the same way.

“Am I so desirable that you can’t take your eyes off me even in sleep?” Thomas mumbled into the pillow, eyes firmly shut. 

James smiled and ran a hand through the unkempt blond hair. “If only you could see yourself asleep; it’s like looking at a bad shipwreck.”

“Who says romance is dead?” Thomas scoffed, eyes flickering open to look blearily at his partner. 

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

Thomas rubbed at his eyes. “Why is it still so bloody cold?”

“You’ve been too spoiled with this hot climate. One or two degrees lower than normal and you’re complaining.” All the same, James began rubbing his hands over Thomas’ arms.

“I’m sure there’s a better way you could warm me up.” Thomas muttered, voice husky with sleep.

James smirked but made no reply other than to dip his head in to kiss his love, tongue tracing over his bottom lip requesting entrance.

His hand buried itself in Thomas’ hair as he moved so that he was over Thomas. His free hand moved down Thomas’ body, knowing all the spots that made him wither and moan into his lover’s mouth. James teased his way until he found a particular spot which caused a louder mewl to escape Thomas and his grip to tighten in James’ auburn hair. James abused this spot again and was awarded with another satisfied noise....

Followed by a yelp of pain erupting from his own mouth.

They sprang apart, Thomas looking extremely concerned. “Are you ok, James? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I don’t know!” James was shocked. “I just felt this sharp pinch on my calf and...”

He felt something rub up against his leg and looked down, shocked face falling into grim realisation as he found the source of the problem.

On his calf he saw a line made by a row of tiny but sharp teeth. Beside his calf, crouched low on his front legs with rear in the air, was a little ball of fur eyeing James warily.

Thomas burst out laughing, head falling against his pillow. “I can’t believe we forgot he was there!” he snickered. “He must have thought we were fighting. Clever boy.”

“This ‘clever boy’ is going to start learning how to fly pretty fucking quick!” James growled, calf stinging, hands itching to grab the little cur by the neck.

“Don’t be so hard on him, it was just an accident.” Thomas tutted.

Tobias had made his way up along the space between the two men and plopped himself on his back, offering his belly to Thomas. His master smiled and rubbed his belly obligingly, cooing at the pup while his lover glared on.

**  
It takes a fortnight for James to determine without any shadow of doubt that this dog was destined to be drowned not for being a runt, but because it was cursed by Satan himself.

Anytime he caught himself believing this to be a slight exaggeration, Tobias went right ahead and proved his theory further. And yet Thomas still couldn’t see it.

Thomas adored the wretched thing and it followed him everywhere. Thankfully by night six or seven the night clinginess had at least worn off with the compromise that the mutt could sleep in one of the other unused bedrooms and James kept their room door firmly shut. Their first night having the room back to themselves had been the sole indication that Thomas had felt any disruption to their lives whatsoever, when he took the book James had been reading in bed out of his hands with the casual demand that James ride him into the fucking mattress.

Other than that, Thomas saw nothing amiss with the troublesome pup. Then again, Tobias did not seem to go out of his way to vex Thomas like he did with James. It was not Thomas who stepped in his shit out in the yard, or found holes chewed in his socks, or bones buried where the turnips should be. Oh no. While James encountered these things the little runt was curled up on Thomas’ lap while he read, or watching Thomas obediently while Thomas worked, or pawing at him incessantly whenever it thought he was paying more attention to James.

There were many times James had to hold himself back from saying anything, his only reason for doing so to keep the peace and because whatever the little shit was, he made Thomas happy. Very happy. Besides, James refused to be jealous of a fucking dog.

One day Thomas had gone down to the sea for a swim and left Tobias behind; he was too small as of yet to be trusted in those waves. James, who firmly believed in natural selection, chose once again to hold his tongue begrudgingly. 

He sat once again on the porch, carving a piece of wood idly when the object of his annoyance once again showed his furry, evil little face. Tobias sat about a foot away from James, head cocked to one side, studying him and no doubt wondering where his master had disappeared to.

James tried ignoring his glare but within seconds gave up. “What do you want?”

Naturally, the dog made no reply.

James tried to continue carving but had to give up on that too, distracted by the wet eyed gaze of the pup. “Go away.”

Tobias stood firm, even yawning a little bit.   
James glowered at the dog, unashamed of his pettiness. “You know you’re a bloody annoyance, don’t you? You know this, and I know this. It’s only Thomas who doesn’t know this, and that’s the only bloody reason you’re still here.” 

Tobias’ tail seemed to give a little wag at the mention of Thomas, though James dismissed this as coincidence and not that the dog could actually understand a word he was saying.

“I wonder how he doesn’t see it. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to. He’s always wanted a dog since he was a boy. That asshole father of his never let him have one. Even when he became a man he still was forbidden because his father owned his house.”

He put down his carving knife again and sighed. Why he was explaining all this to a dog, he had no notion.

“I promised him years ago that when we had a home of our own he could have as many as he liked, and yet here I am eating my sodding words. I love Thomas, Thomas loves you, and that, my little friend, is the only thing saving your hide at the minute. It doesn’t have to be like that though. Life would be a whole lot easier for both of us if we could learn to tolerate each other.”

Tobias remained unmoved for a moment before suddenly rising and taking off into the yard. James began to carve again. 

He was rudely interrupted yet again as he felt something nudge his knee. Looking down, he saw the little nuisance once again sat by him. There was a stick beside him. He nudged James’ knee with his nose again.

James cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not serious.”

Tobias whined and nudged him again, picking up the stick and placing it on his knee. 

“It’s not happening, Tobias.” James said firmly.

Tobias lay his chin on his knee, looking up at him with sad, pleading eyes.

James tried to look past the pathetic gaze. He really did.

“Fine!” he picked up the stick in disgust and flung it far out of reach. “Fetch the stick, you pain in the ass.”

He’d hoped he’d thrown it far enough that the irritating little shit would have to spend some time looking for it. Less than two minutes later he was back, stick at James’ feet, rear playfully in the air.

“For goodness sake....”

**

Thomas returned from his swim to see his faithful dog racing through their yard with a stick in his mouth, down the garden path to the porch and depositing the stick at the feet of his love, who gave Tobias a somewhat begrudging pat. “Good boy. Let’s try further this time.”

The stick was thrown again to the sound of “Fetch!” and the small dog tore after it.

Thomas grinned as he climbed over their fence “Enjoying ourselves, I see?”

James’ head shot up at the sound of his voice, his face instantly hardening. “Don’t be foolish, your mongrel here has been torturing me for nearly an hour with that accursed stick. Still, at least he has some response to command.”

Thomas sat down beside his love. Upon seeing his master return, Tobias dropped the stick and ran to greet him enthusiastically.

James fought an upturning of his lips as he saw Thomas fondly cuddle the admittedly endearing bundle of mischief.

“Speaking of commands.” Thomas said. “I tried teaching him some tricks yesterday.”

“Do demonstrate.” 

Thomas placed Toby a few feet in front of him. “Toby, sit!”

Tobias looked back at his owner blankly, tail wagging.

“Sit!”

James fought back a snicker at the failed attempt. “Is your mutt broken?”

Thomas ignored him and tried another.

“Tobias, roll over!”

Tobias, to his credit, met him halfway by lying down on his belly and refusing to go no further.

“No Toby, roll over! Like this!” Thomas lay down on his back like an overturned tortoise. James stared at him in disbelief. “Have you been drinking the sea water? Or have you just naturally lost your wits?”

“I’m showing him how it’s done. Look, Toby, roll over! Do what daddy’s doing!”

Daddy. James wasn’t sure whether to feel worried or- No. He drew the line there. James McGraw did not have a ‘daddy’ kink.

He placed a hand on Thomas’ torso and began tickling his sensitive spots, causing him to jerk madly. “James, don’t! That tickles!”

James smirked. “I just took from you rolling over that you wanted me to rub your belly. You don’t like it?”

“I prefer you rubbing other parts of me.” Thomas murmured, still lying on his back, half-lidded eyes staring teasingly into James’. “I like licking as well, for what it’s worth.”

“Well, that, I know only too well.”   
The moment was ruined only slightly by the leaping of Toby onto Thomas’ chest, winding him. Nonetheless James couldn’t help but smile and ruffle the trouble-maker’s ears fondly. They’d reach some form of truce one day, he was sure.

Thomas frowned. “Is it raining?”

“No, why?”

“My front feels wet...and warm...”

Eyes widening he pushed Toby off his chest to reveal the damage. “TOBIAS!!” 

That day might come sooner than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, chapter 4 coming soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The best things in life are not things; they are moments."

James was the first to wake that warm, late summer morning. It was early by his own standards, during his time on the sea he had been an early riser by choice, by duty during his year at the plantation. Nowadays he liked taking his time getting up simply because he could. 

Beside him, the love of his life was still asleep, sprawled in his usual untidy way with face buried into the pillow. James had warned him enough times that he was going to suffocate himself one of these nights.

Thomas had responded that it was better than trying to sleep in James’ stiff way, like a corpse. It was a damn good job that James usually slept in the military fashion, or else he might have found himself on the floor more times than not with the surprising amount of space Thomas’ sleeping position took up in their otherwise spacious bed. Thomas’ small bed in the plantation had been a nightmare.

Eight years, James had had to put up with this. Eight years this very day, in fact. 

James didn’t focus on calendars too much these days. Such ridiculous man-made things like time didn’t matter much in his life anymore. His day began with the sun and ended when it set, his times of the year determined by the subtle change in the seasons. Years counted when the seasons swung around again. Himself and Thomas were not the sentimental sorts who kept track of birthdays or anniversaries. Even Christmas tended to come and go essentially unheeded.

Yet, somehow, James knew this date. It was eight years to the day that James was brought to a savannah plantation in restraints, had caught sight of a scruffy yet familiar inmate, and had never looked back.

So just below three thousand days of never being separated once, of late mornings and early nights, of arguments and love, of adventures and peace, of Thomas sleeping like a dead fucking cat.

James wouldn’t trade a single day of it.

“James?” a sleepy mumble came from the pillow.

He hadn’t realised how long he’d been watching his love sleep. He bent over to kiss the half-hidden forehead. “Just me. Sorry for waking you.”

“What time is it?”

“Too early for you to be awake.” James curled up beside him on the limited space of his pillow, stroking the side of his face soothingly. “Go on back to sleep.” 

Thomas did just that.

**

  
Two hours later James was sat at the kitchen table with a book, breakfast just about ready. His hours had been most productive: he had weeded and raked over the garden, he had harvested the last of the strawberries and some peaches, and their chickens had provided some eggs for breakfast. He’d also done the laundry and fed Thomas’ torture of a dog.

Tobias’ master suddenly entered the room, bare footed and shirt open, eyes full of sleep.

“Good morning, Lazarus.”

Thomas rolled his eyes as he began placing their breakfast on plates. “You’re never normally the first one up and you know it.”

“Still, it’s not like you to sleep so late. I was almost going to bring you breakfast in bed, then I thought to myself, ‘who does he think he is, a lord?’” 

Thomas smiled as he put their plates down on the table. “Not anymore.”

James gripped hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. “ _Always_ in my eyes.”

Thomas brought the knuckles to his lips. “Your opinion is the only one I give a damn about.”

They made a start on their breakfast, ignoring the begging eyes of Toby on the floor. “I believe the extra sleep did me some good: set me up good and proper for fixing the stable roof.”

James stopped chewing and groaned as he remembered. The wooden roof over their stable had warped with the humidity over the summer and needed complete refitting. Their horses didn’t bother much with the stable other than for rest or shelter, happier roaming the woodland freely, but monsoon season would soon be upon them and shelter would be needed. 

Thomas would see to that. Meanwhile James, who had drawn the short straw, would be checking the horses for ticks and lice. Their horses were of good temperament but didn’t like the process of de-ticking any more than James liked doing it. 

“You’re quite sure you don’t want to trade jobs?”

“Very.” Thomas smirked, pouring James more tea and sliding it across the table. “Don’t look so put off, at least you get to spend some quality time with the horses while I fix and muck out their stable.”

“Ah yes, quality time spent trying to avoid being kicked in the face when they see me coming with a heated rod.” James made a face. “I swear last year Miguel near bucked me ten feet in the air when I found a tick on his back.”

“Dramatics really don’t become you, my love.”

“Well, you’ll see. You’ll come by later on and find me with my skull crushed and then what’ll you do?” 

“Obviously I’ll cry my eyes out and my heart will be broken and I’ll never love again. Worse still, I’ll have to de-tick them myself in future.” Thomas grinned wickedly as he downed the last of his tea and stood. “But until then, please be careful and try to come home with your skull intact. It’s a nice skull, I’d hate anything to happen to it.”

He put on his boots and did up his shirt. He then leant across the table to press a kiss to the temples of his love, slyly nicking a piece of bacon from his plate as he did so. James noticed immediately. “Hey, thief!”

Thomas smiled as he exited the door swiftly with the piece in his mouth. “What’s yours is mine!”

“Last time I checked we weren’t married!” James called after him indignantly, hearing only a laugh in reply.

**

 

James thought about his words while walking through the woods, delousing equipment in a bucket. His thoughts formed a question: what the fuck _were_  he and Thomas?

He wasn’t asking himself a stupid question to be difficult. They had been inseparable since reuniting eight years ago, they lived together, they loved each other. James couldn’t imagine life without him. The common man might disagree that what they had was akin to matrimonial love, that it was no more than an unnatural attraction based on lust or lunacy.

But James didn’t think so- Thomas was his light, his compass, his harbour. He was his best friend and the source of his happiness. He desired him physically, just as much now as ever, and they made love regularly. But he was the only person James wanted it with, and he was the only person who filled James’ mind from the moment he woke up till the second he fell asleep. Only death would ever separate them. Was that not all the promises made in matrimony?

He knew all this. He knew Thomas felt the exact same. But as for what label to put on what they were.... James didn’t know.

He caught sight of Thomas’ horse and slowed his steps to an easy pace, clucking his tongue as he hid the bucket behind his back. “Here boy, who’s a good boy, Dante?” 

Dante was of a placid nature and came to him for a pat easily. Soothing him with pats and gentle murmurs, James took this opportunity to secure the horse to a nearby tree, before easing the tweezers out of his belt. “There now, let’s have a look- Dante!”

The horse, realising his intentions and having no interest in cooperating, was now backing away as far as his restraint would allow, harrumphing disapprovingly. James sighed. It would be a long day.

It seemed to take an age to get Dante settled enough to begin checking him, and that process took even longer when locating and exterminating tiny pests all while wrestling with a large beast. Dante had already gotten wise and kicked dirt over the small fire James had built for heating the ticking rod twice. Thankfully the accursed horse didn’t have many pests investing its coat, and James to his great relief didn’t get his head caved in first time round.

While he was brushing the now relaxed horse’s coat he let his mind wander again. He’d never given much thought to what description fit them, after all should they ever introduce themselves in their local town or anywhere else they visited, it was always as false relatives like brothers in law or cousins.

Put plainly, he supposed they were lovers. James didn’t care much for the term, it sounded much too casual as though their relationship was only a brief affair. ‘Sweethearts’, they had been together much too long for. ‘Partners’ or ‘significant others’ sounded too cold and flat. 

‘Other half.” Was a term he didn’t mind, namely because it felt very accurate. But it was too close to ‘husband’, which.... in all honesty, James felt was the most fitting term. More often than not it was what he privately referred to Thomas as in his head. But then extreme amount of guilt would follow, reasoning that the rights to that term did not belong to him.

 

He’d learned the story of Thomas and Miranda years ago, when his affair with Thomas first began. They moved in the same social circles as young adults, Miranda had been drawn to him for his rebellious streak and his powerful, addictive gift for persuasive argument. He to her for her intelligence and her unapologetically vivid personality. His father had begun pushing him to choose a wife to further his political appearance, and Thomas could barely contain his glee at the dismayed face of his father upon arrival to meet Thomas’ new bride, to see Miranda casually sipping tea in the parlour of his home.

They loved each other, they really did. She loved Thomas deeply and was more than content to play the loving wife role. Thomas adored her, he thought the world of her and made sure she wanted for nothing. But there was always something amiss, something Miranda craved which Thomas, try as he might, couldn’t satisfy. Miranda somewhat knew from the beginning that Thomas was, well, ‘different’ from other men in her acquaintance. It was hard initially for her to come to terms with that, or indeed for him to admit that this was indeed the reason for why their marital duties fell short for both. 

But they got through that, their love being strong enough as to overcome it. Thomas recognised Miranda as a woman with needs, so they agreed to an open marriage on that end of things. He too was also free to explore, though he was so engrossed in his work he didn’t show much interest other than the odd one-night fling to soothe his urges. Only for Miranda knew better, one would almost think he was a eunuch.

Then James came along.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love with James, though her love for Thomas didn’t diminish in any way. She’d seen Thomas’ eyes wander over the lieutenant, but never assumed it to become anything more than a mere appreciation for his looks. Whatever happened she certainly hadn’t imagined Thomas to one day gaze at the naval officer in the same way he looked at her. Or indeed, for the officer to look back at him with the exact same expression.

James had loved Miranda. He’d loved her as any man would a wife, and her death had crushed him nearly to the point of no return. But it was as though his love for each Hamilton was of completely different species’. His love for Miranda was pure, protective, warm. His love for Thomas was all those things, but with a few additions. It was manic, all-encompassing, yet soft and addictive. 

Sometimes he felt guilty. Guilty that she hadn’t lived to know the truth, and that he was spending the rest of his life with her husband when she should have had that right. Guilty that although they had some happy moments in Nassau, they were all too few, and that as much as James loved her he couldn’t commit himself fully to their relationship because there was always a gap between them where Thomas should have been and that she alone couldn’t fill. Guilty that she had been aware of that.

She had been proud to call Thomas her husband. Proud enough to remind James on occasions when she was angry or upset with him that Thomas had been hers by law. He knew this wasn’t out of malice or jealousy, but to remind him that he wasn’t the only one whose life Thomas’ loss had destroyed. With everything he had now which should have been hers, he didn’t have the right to take that title from her too. 

He finished with Dante and took off the restraint. As Dante took off he stretched, mentally preparing himself for Miguel. He found him not too far away and got down to business, all other thoughts dismissed for now.

**

Miguel was a right pain, and the sun was starting to set by the time James finished cleaning his coat. He even received a sharp nip on the shoulder for his trouble. “There’s some fucking loyalty. Do something that’ll benefit them in the long run, and get nothing back but abuse.” He muttered as he released the ungrateful horse. The unlikely comparison between the beasts and his former crew was not lost on him.

He was now starving as he trudged back to the house, wondering how Thomas was faring with the roof. As it turned out, Thomas was long-finished and beckoned to James as he approached. James eyed the new flat-top approvingly. Thomas gestured again. “I can see just fine from where I am, it looks spot on.”

“Just come up for a minute!”

James sighed, abandoned the bucket and climbed the ladder to join Thomas on the new stable roof, where he sat dangling his legs over the edge. He was surprised to find two covered plates of food, two mugs and a bottle of port beside Thomas.

“I thought it might be a nice idea, it’s too nice an evening to spend indoors.” Thomas shrugged. “Though if you’d rather eat inside that’s fine.”

“No, no. Not at all.” James sat down beside him. “I think it’s a great idea.”

Thomas spotted a mark just visible on the neckline of James’ shirt. “Someone’s been eating you already, I see.” He inspected the nip for any skin breakage. “Should I be worried?”

“Yes, I’m leaving you for a sour-tempered horse. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

Thomas chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to the dark mark.

They ate in companionable silence as they sat with their legs dangling over the stable’s edge, watching the sun go lower. The stable wasn’t exceptionally high, though it gave a different perspective of their living space. James saw their home, their yard with their garden and chickens, their ridiculously spoilt dog dozing in the remaining sunlight by the well. Somewhere in the thick woodland their horses roamed free, they themselves dining on their stable roof. It was a small empire of their very own, built by themselves.

James looked across to Thomas out of the corner of his eye. He was quite at his leisure, eating a peach and swinging his legs like a child, watching the sky change colour. His clothes were dirty from working on the roof all day, and James reckoned he must look just as bad and stinking of horses. Thomas didn’t seem to mind. He never minded. When James considered the life Thomas had in London, it sometimes amazed him at how well he’d adapted to this life, which was not an impoverished one in the slightest but still miles away from the grandeur of London. 

If ever he brought this up, Thomas would gently remind him that he’d spent a decade essentially as a slave and he was more than content with this simpler but free life. London felt as though it had occurred in another lifetime, almost like it hadn’t belonged to him at all.

James was the only living proof that it had. As he’d stated that morning, Thomas would always be nobility in his eyes.

“It’s really beautiful, this place, isn’t it?” Thomas commented. “Especially from this viewpoint.”

“It is.” James took a swig of port.

“We’ve made some lovely memories here, an incredible life here. And to think we built it all from practically nothing. ” 

James felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Yes, we have. And yes, we did. Makes one feel like a king of all he surveys, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Thomas tapped the side of his mug with a finger thoughtfully. “James?”

“Yes?”

“I was just thinking over what we were saying this morning. I know we were just teasing at the time but what you said about us not being married, well, for whatever reason it kind of stuck with me all day.”

James felt a mix of surprise and guilt.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be foolish, what are you sorry for?” Thomas frowned. “No, I was just thinking that, well, in a sense we practically are, aren’t we?”

James felt his heart do an embarrassing little skip. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, you know everything about me, as do I about you. You are my comfort and my happiness, I hope I am the same to you. We argue over dirty dishes and newspaper headlines. The small matter of us loving each other for the better part of two decades and spending eight years in each other’s immediate company, somewhat helps my argument.”

“Sounds about right.” James smiled, before it slipped slowly as his earlier guilt resurfaced.

As though reading his mind, Thomas went on softly. “I know Miranda would approve. She would be happy that we found each other again and that we were happy. It was her after all who convinced me that the heart was capable of loving more than one person.”

All of a sudden James felt incredibly foolish. Of course Miranda would have been delighted for them if she could see them now, of course she wouldn’t have minded sharing his title with James. Of everything they’d shared over ten years, their shared love for Thomas had been the one thing she’d always insisted they keep sharing. He’d been stupid to think anything else. 

His hand crept over the space between them to stroke the fingers of Thomas’ hand, which immediately laced themselves with James’ own.

There was a beat before James spoke sincerely. “You know if it was possible for us to legally wed I’d sling you over my shoulder and carry you off to the nearest church right now, if that’s what you wanted.”

“As lovely a gesture as that would be, it’s not necessary.” Thomas smiled. “Legal or not, I don’t need a vicar in a stone building to tell me what you mean to me.” 

James nodded. “It’s strange to think though, all the same, how that’s all marriage is in a legal sense. A piece of paper with signatures. A piece of paper is somehow needed in order to show how devout you are to a person. It’s all bollocks really, isn’t it?”

“It truly is.” Thomas laughed. He paused, still fumbling with the tin mug. “Do you love me?”

James stared. “What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Just answer it.” 

James sighed. “Of course I do.” 

“Will you always? Come what may?”

“Thomas...”

“Humour me, James.”

“Yes, always.”

“Will you ever leave me?”

“Not until we’re both in the ground. Even then I’d still look for you in the next life.”

Thomas nodded. “The same answer applies to me for all.”

He took a drink from his mug before looking across at James, who was still curious as to the purpose of all the obvious questions. “That’s essentially all the promises made in a legal matrimonial ceremony. So in my eyes, what we have, what we are, is a marriage. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise. Including you.”

“That won’t be necessary, I know better than anyone how ruthless you are in debating.” James chuckled, feeling oddly light. “I will argue however, that you’ve missed one valid point which makes your whole argument defunct unless rectified quickly.”

Thomas frowned. “What’s that?”

James leaned across and kissed Thomas quickly with a grin. “That’s the most important bit.”

Thomas tutted “And yet you didn’t even do it right.” 

He gripped the front of James’ shirt and pulled him into a more passionate kiss. James opened up to it willingly, arms winding around Thomas’ waist while Thomas held his face steady in his hands.

As a young man pursuing his career in the navy, James had idly presumed that he’d find a wife and settle down eventually, start his own family. It wasn’t exactly a personal goal, but it was just the done thing. It was what everyone in society expected of a young man with prospects.

Then came along the radical lord Hamilton and all such expectations inevitably went out the window.

If he had ever bothered to give much thought to his marrying, however, he was sure that never in all his wildest dreams would he have imagined exchanging vows on the roof of a stable in the middle of nowhere, covered in horse hair, to another man covered in grime. No church, no rings, no witnesses. The whole thing was completely unorthodox.

But then again, when had he and his husband ever been orthodox?

**

The sun had set properly by now, both lay back on the roof watching the night sky. The stars were numerous out here in the wilderness. James knew a lot of them by name and constellation from years of using them for guidance at sea, Thomas on the other hand hadn’t seen as much of them as he’d liked during years of captivity. Though now well used to seeing them again, he still listened intently while James pointed them out.

He interrupted at one stage. “Which one did you say was the polar star, my love?”

James pointed it out. “Right there.”

Thomas frowned and tried to point it out. “There?”

“No, just a bit across...”

“There?” 

“No, there!”

“I’m starting to think you’re making this up.”

“I’m starting to believe your eyesight is failing, look, just look down the line of my arm when I point...”

Thomas finally found it. “I see.”

“I can’t say I’d have much faith in you guiding your way home if stars were your only guide.”

James laughed, earning himself a sharp nudge. “Ouch! Jesus, Thomas, that was right between the ribs!”

“I can’t see anything, feel lucky I didn’t hit any lower.” Thomas snickered, rubbing the side apologetically all the same. “Anyway, surely all those speculations about it leading people home is nonsense, is it not?”

“It is and it isn’t. It doesn’t necessarily lead you home if you follow it blindly, but it’s an extraordinarily helpful guiding tool for those in need of a fixed direction- unlike most stars it never changes its position in the sky.”

Thomas nodded, though he knew James could probably barely see him. “Well now, that makes more sense.” He paused. “Have you ever needed to use it?”

“Quite a lot actually in the beginning of my captain’s role, if uncertain of direction. After a while I didn’t need it. I always knew the whole ‘guiding you home’ theory was a load of claptrap.”

“How?”

He heard James sigh in the dark. “In all the time I sailed by it, it never once led me back to London. Or to Savannah.” 

Thomas smiled. “You’re getting sentimental with age, my darling.”

“That was rather sappy, wasn’t it?”

“Just a tad. But I like it when you’re sappy.”

Thomas rolled onto his side, being careful with elbows and knees as he leaned over James. He could see him just a bit better now, could make out an expression caught between sheer contentment and amusement.

Thomas ran a finger along James' jawline. “What you said earlier about feeling like a king of all surveyed, that actually is true in a way isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.” James ran a hand along Thomas’ side affectionately. “This is our land, we pretty much built everything on it from the ground up, and no one else is around for miles.”

“We can also see the sea from here.” Thomas commented. “There’s no doubt you’re the king of that.”

“Not anymore, not for a long time.”

“Always, in my eyes.” Thomas echoed, before moving over so that he was properly straddling James now, hands resting either side of James’ head while James looked on.

“I’m surveying you right now.” Thomas purred. “Does the rule still apply?”

James wound his arms around Thomas’ waist, holding him where he was. “Most definitely.” He smiled. “Though please forgive me in the event I slip up and refer to you as ‘my lord’ instead of ‘my liege’. 

“You can call me whatever you like, as long as you’re mine.” Thomas nuzzled along his husband’s face.

“Always.” James closed the minuscule distance between them, ending all further discussion for the time being.  
**

“James?”

“Hmm?” James snapped out of his memories and blinked.

Thomas had finished reading and was now looking at him amusedly. “I was just making sure you were still with me. You were starting to look a bit glassy-eyed.”

The sun was beginning to set, any number of autumn leaves had gathered unnoticed on James’ chest. Clearly he’d lost track of how long he’d been gazing, lost in time. Lost in ten years of time.

“Sorry.” He grinned sheepishly.

Thomas ran a hand through the auburn hair. “What were you thinking about?”

“A bit of everything, really.” James shrugged. “Mainly that I can’t believe a decade has passed already.” 

Thomas smiled. “I know. It went fast didn’t it?”

Too fast. It was frustratingly unfair how a decade of bliss went by so much more quickly than one of agony and regret. 

Thomas bent down to kiss James. “Here’s to the second.” He grinned at his love.  
James pushed himself up from his lap and straddled Thomas, pressing a kiss to his smiling mouth. “And the third.” He kissed him again. “And the fourth.” Another one. “The fifth...”

“Are we planning on living forever, my love?” Thomas chuckled, resting his forehead against James’.

“Why not? According to my old crew I was immortal; Miranda was a witch who cursed me and kept my heart in a box.”

Thomas laughed. “The last time I checked, I wasn’t immortal. I fear I’d have to leave you eventually during your immortality.”

“No, you won’t. I forbid it.”

“Then I won’t.” Thomas tightened his hold a little. “Just so you know, you’re stuck with me until the end of time then.”

“That suits me fine.” James pulled back a bit so he could look into the eyes of his husband. “Like you said before, the story does end with us, after all.”

“It does.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thanks so much to all who read, reviewed or kudosed, you are wonderful people:)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, chapter 2 en route. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Summary quote taken from Nickelback's 'Satellite'.


End file.
